"But finally you find that you have people of flesh and blood on your hands, people with will and an individual sensibility of their own, made out of component parts you are unable to change, manipulate or distort." (Harold Pinter)

Today I said farewell to the woods we love so much: a storm was brewing, the distant hills masked behind a thin mist.

So green is this land, so mysterious the mausoleum, so silent the path that dwindles its way to the shore…

Yet once we have gone, we will still be haunting this land, invisible, so quiet even the birds will think it is a mistake: in truth, we will walk the streets of the city, holding on the tenuous link between now and yesterday…